


Sword and Shield

by UnsteadyGenius



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Episode Ignis Spoilers, Fluff, Ignis lets his hair down, M/M, Post-Altissia, Rating May Change, Sensory Deprivation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, starved for affection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-03-27 05:56:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnsteadyGenius/pseuds/UnsteadyGenius
Summary: Drabbles and One-Shots based around Gladiolus Amicitia and Ignis ScientiaI Will Follow You Into the Dark : Ignis comes to terms with his lack of sight and what that means for him and Gladio.Thinking Out Loud : Gladio comes home to a silent house and no sign of Ignis. That is, until he hears the sound of water coming from the bathroom.Remnants of Departed Days : Gladio reflects on Altissia while waiting for Ignis to wake up





	1. I Will Follow You Into the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This came about from a sprint challenge that involved Sensory Deprivation and Starved for Affection. My mind immediately went to Cartanica :)

Ignis sat in the lower bunk of the bed, hiding from the world. It wasn’t that he was trying to be evasive or aloof, but things were different.  _ He  _ was different — physically, mentally, and emotionally. Ever since he put that goddamn ring on and bargained with the Kings of Lucis to relieve him of his sight so he could stand a fighting chance against Ardyn, everything had changed. 

 

Gladio was livid when he found out what really happened during their separation in Altissia. When Ignis confessed to him what it was that he had done, all for the sake of protecting Noctis, Gladio refused to speak but only a few necessary words to him. Being without Gladio  _ killed _ Ignis, especially since just days before the Battle of Altissia they’d spent their last night together, expressing with their bodies and muttered words how much they loved each other. 

 

Now? 

 

Gladio didn’t seem to want anything to do with Ignis. It was a tense anger that Ignis had never experienced from the Shield before.  

 

Everyone was at odds with each other. Gladio and Noctis exchanged words on a crowded passenger car, Prompto tried to break up the scuffle, and Ignis wanted to just scream. Once everyone stormed off, going their separate ways, Ignis stumbled his way with his cane to a spare room, sliding the door shut and sinking onto the uncomfortable bed. 

 

And that’s where he was now, the heels of his palms pressing painfully into what was left of his eyes. They were broken. Irreparable. Everyone hated each other and Ignis had half a mind to wonder if it was all his fault.  

 

Who knew how many minutes — or, fuck, even hours — had passed before Gladio came looking for him, inching the sliding door open and stepping inside with slow and cautious steps. “Hey,” he said. 

 

Ignis, however, didn’t respond. He didn’t have the voice, nor the heart, to say anything in return. He knew what he did was hurtful, having hoped that maybe Gladio would understand that he did what he felt was the only course of action at that time. Unfortunately, it only left Ignis cold and alone, with only a barely-supportive hand on his lower back from time to time as a way to get from point A to point B — not even a kiss. A hug. A pity fuck. Nothing. 

 

If Ignis didn’t feel alone because of his new disability, having Gladio distance himself definitely did.

 

Due to his sheer size, Gladio took a spot just beside Ignis on the floor, right next to his legs. Feeling the body heat from the Shield was nice. More than nice. Ignis couldn’t describe the flutter in his heart if he tried, knowing his longtime love was choosing to sit next to him now instead of treating him like he was afflicted with the Scourge or something similar. He fought back the urge to plant a kiss somewhere,  _ anywhere _ , on Gladio, choosing instead to sit in uncomfortable silence, elbows on his knees with his fingers interlaced. 

 

“You ok?” Well,  _ that _ was a loaded question. Ignis clicked his tongue, resisting the urge to laugh. Gladio’s sigh, sad and solemn, filled the room with a guilty undertone. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

 

“You are not required to babysit me. Your duty lies with Noct, and Noct alone.”

 

“No, my duty is to protect  _ all _ of you.  _ Especially _ you, Iggy . . . so don’t play that.”

 

They were dancing around so many elephants in the room, avoiding the issue at heart — Gladio unable to be there while Ignis went head to head against Ardyn, Ignis jamming the Ring on with only the thought of Noctis in his mind, navigating their friendship-turned-relationship after having slept together recently . . . it hurt. It all hurt. Really, where did they go from here? How could they build a relationship on such a rocky foundation? 

 

“Please, Gladiolus,” Ignis hissed, turning just so his lover wouldn’t have to look at the garish scars that adorned his once blemish-free face, “we both know what I did and what has to happen from here. Maybe what we did . . . how we acted before . . . maybe it was all in haste. I don’t believe we . . . I . . .”

 

Everything was a jumbled mess and nothing was coming out right. As much as Ignis tried to finish his train of thought, Gladio saw to it first to cut him off with a kiss. A sweet, loving, sudden yet still-passionate kiss, only a hint of what they shared before.

 

A kiss that Ignis — literally and figuratively — hadn’t seen coming.

 

It had been several weeks since that night. Several weeks of Ignis replaying over and over in his mind what transpired between them. The feel of Gladio’s lips on his. Down his chest. Peppering spots near his hips and thighs. The way they came together so easily, like they were fucking  _ made _ for each other. 

 

Quite frankly, after what he did to save Noctis, Ignis wondered if Gladio would  _ ever _ forgive him enough to let him in again — to show just how much he missed him. Loved him. Needed him. After feeling Gladio’s touch that night several weeks ago, tasted his lips on his own, Ignis craved him more than he realized. This only rekindled the burning fire that he fought to ignore since that night. 

 

When they broke apart, a single tear trailed from Ignis’ unseeing eye, the one that hadn’t taken the brunt of the King’s wrath. Gladio’s thumb brushed it away and, without a warning, his lips grazed against the wet streak down his cheek. The very thought, the  _ feeling _ , of Gladio’s lips on his skin, made Ignis’ breathing hitch. A chuckle, and Gladio pulled away enough to possibly take in Ignis as a whole — or, so he assumed. It was hard to know for sure these days when he couldn’t  _ see  _ anything. “What’s wrong, Iggy? You’re crying . . .”

 

When Ignis didn’t answer, too stunned to utter a syllable in response, Gladio’s large hand — gently, as to possibly not scare or stun Ignis — pulled him in for another kiss. It was a mild and sweet-tempered kiss, one that Ignis would’ve never expected from the behemoth of a man. Not that Gladio was a brute in bed, no; he was passionate and emotional. For him to be as merciful as he was right now was all Ignis needed. 

 

Somewhere along the way, Gladio was up, easing Ignis back onto the springy mattress. Ignis’ eyes popped open, desperate and needy. He wanted to see Gladio. Wanted to see the yearning look on his face. When he couldn’t, panic clawed at his throat, anxiety burning inside his chest. He needed a breather. 

 

Fuck, this wasn’t fair. 

 

How was he supposed to be a great lover in bed when he couldn’t see Gladio’s face in the throes of pleasure? Was he just supposed to fumble his way through sex for the rest of his life? Surely, Gladio would get sick of guiding him when it came to that, eventually leaving him for someone better. Someone new. 

 

They stopped again, neither one saying anything, though the clacking of the train on the tracks more than made up for the silence in the room. It kept them distracted from the heavy, unsaid words between them. How could Ignis convey his insecurities? Normally, he was the one to keep everyone’s emotions in check, but now? Now, that it was  _ his _ emotions that needed to be reevaluated? It was more than he could take.

 

“Hey, stop thinking, ok? Just . . . let go.”

 

The pillow under his ear was itchy, a fabric that would certainly impede a good night’s sleep. Even without the ability to see, Ignis knew they didn’t have much room to work with in the cramped bunk bed. He gave a curt nod, closing his good eye and exhaling the anxious breath he’d been holding for longer than necessary. The very lips that graced Ignis’ own now moved to his jawline. 

 

Stubble scratched more than he remembered. Whispers were louder in his ear than he recalled before losing his sight. Oh, but even the very way that Gladio said his name sounded sweeter than he remembered, a guilty notion gnawing at him for taking it for granted before. 

 

Everything was different without the ability to see. 

 

With tentative fingers, Ignis reached up and traced Gladio’s scar from brow to cheekbone, grateful that he at least had the memory to find it and take it in. He tried to pretend that maybe, just maybe, his memory would be good enough to ‘see’ what it was he was touching. Feeling. Kissing. Tasting. 

 

As much as he hoped, it simply wasn't the same.

 

Maybe he’d been hyperventilating, unnerved, because Gladio pulled away again and shushed Ignis, running his hand up and down Ignis’ arm to calm him down. “Hey, hey, hey, settle down. It’s me. It’s ok. You’re ok. We’re safe.”

 

Ignis swallowed, trying to wet his lips with his tongue. “I . . . I wish I could see you,” he admitted, running his finger over and over the raised skin of Gladio’s scars, desperate to anchor himself to this moment in time. His heart ached at the thought of never looking into Gladio’s amber eyes. Never able to see the love he so obviously had for him. 

 

When the Kings of Lucis took his sight away, Ignis never imagined it would’ve been something like  _ this  _ that made him regret it. 

 

How he wished to see the look Gladio was giving him right now. Was it one of pity? Amusement? Maybe anger because, after all, this  _ was _ all his fault for putting that ring on in the first place? 

 

“Iggy . . .” 

 

Gladio’s calloused hand guided Ignis’ own to various points on his face, neck, and chest before bringing those fingers to his lips, kissing them one by one. It was such a simple gesture, but sensual and moving all the same. The underlying resentment seemed to melt away and the walls that Gladio eradicated in the wake of Ignis’ actions crumbled, slowly letting him back in. 

 

For the first time in several weeks, Ignis smiled. It was small, but the sentiment of hope and perseverance was there. Gladio’s fingers interlaced with Ignis and they remained there in silence, exchanging kisses and occasional words of love and encouragement.  

 

It was a scary prospect, navigating the world without his sight, but Ignis knew he could rest easy with Gladio by his side to guide him through it. 


	2. Thinking Out Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio comes home to a silent house and no sign of Ignis. That is, until he hears the sound of water coming from the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired by this picture, so I wanted to write a cute fic around it:
> 
> https://twitter.com/skull9K/status/969359856686608385
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)

“Hey, Iggy! I’m home!”

 

It had been one long fucking day. 

 

Ever since Noctis returned the sun to the lands of Eos, things had been go-go-go. Noctis put Ignis in charge of spearheading the reconstruction of Insomnia, a job that Ignis took  _ very _ seriously. Gladio, on the other hand, was placed as Captain of the new Kingsglaive retinue, working tirelessly day in and day out to ensure that the new recruits could withstand anything.

 

Really, it wasn’t like Noctis Lucis Caelum, the new king of Insomnia and the rest of Eos,  _ needed _ the Kingsglaive; with the downfall of the Niflheim Empire, the demise of Ardyn, and the end of daemons in general, things were relatively at peace now. The sun rose every day, the clouds of the Starscourge vanished, and life was as it should be. 

 

Still, that didn’t mean that rogue hunters and jealous citizens didn’t have it out for the new king. It didn’t mean that people didn’t want an opportunity at the throne. People had become hardened. Some angry. Gladio wanted to believe the best in everyone, but ten years of an apocalyptic world made him incredibly cynical and jaded.  

 

So, Gladio worked. He worked his ass off, harder than he ever had before, to ensure that the new recruits had what it took to protect Noctis at any means necessary. He was up at the asscrack of dawn and didn’t come home until well after dark. Exhaustion was a permanent state of mind and Gladio, more often than not, stole cans of Ebony — now back in production — from his and Ignis’ fridge to stay somewhat functioning during the day. 

 

There were more days than not where he’d kiss Ignis on the forehead, promising an early end to the day as the man sat upright in bed with his phone in one hand and the laptop going in front of him. Gladio would’ve felt guilty about the lack of time he and Ignis had with each other, but Ignis was very much caught up in his own duties to agonize for long over Gladio’s departure for hours on end. 

 

Then, once things were up and running after the return of the sun (for the most part — mankind can only do so much, so fast), Gladio made it his personal mission to rebuild the Amicitia Manor, damaged during the invasion of the Empire. Luckily, there wasn’t too much in the way of desecration as the outskirts of the city remained relatively unscathed, lending to very little in the way of repair to the property. Once it was restored to its former glory, Gladio took Ignis’ hand and asked him to please come home with him. “I want to build a life with you,” he remembered choking out, the words barely above a whisper. 

 

The house was large, bigger than what two people needed, but Gladio loved it and Ignis thrived in the gourmet kitchen. There was a library for Gladio and a study/office for Ignis. Being in the manor was bittersweet, but more so sweet as Gladio made memories every day with Ignis now that they lived there. They were married in the backyard. Noctis and Prompto came by for drinks and laughter. Iris dropped by from time to time to catch up. When it was just the two of them alone, Gladio and Ignis enjoyed each other’s company and the silence that world peace ushered in. 

 

It was, for lack of better words, perfection. 

 

Except for right now. 

 

As Gladio dragged himself in through the front door, calling for his love, the eerie silence stilled the blood in his veins. It wasn’t unusual for Ignis to keep quiet when Gladio came home, due to the fact that he was busy and buried deep in work. Still, he would at least call out to Gladio in return, greeting him with a brief, “I’m in the office!” or something to that tune. 

 

Tonight, there was nothing.

 

Gladio narrowed his eyes, letting his ears take charge of his senses as he listened for some sort of danger or something to clue him into the fact that Ignis was in trouble. Truly there should’ve been no reason for him to worry because, again, the world was at peace now — but the threat of harm still lingered now and again.

 

The hairs on the back of Gladio’s neck pricked, standing on end as he took a single step forward. Then another. Quiet, as to not disturb or startle whoever it was that could possibly be in their home. A chill settled in the air around him, or maybe that was just his blood running cold and his stomach churning with anxiety. “Iggy?” he tried again, to no avail. 

 

Then, the splash of water caught his attention from the second-floor bathroom, just at the end of the hallway. Strange; what on Eos was going on? His mind a mess of ‘what-ifs’, Gladio bolted up the ornately-detailed staircase and dashed down the end of the hall to where he heard the sound. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, blood roaring in his ears with the worst of scenarios playing in his mind.

 

Had Ignis been drowned by knaves? Maybe he’d drowned in some freak accident? Why hadn’t he answered when Gladio called out to him? Gods, was he ok?? 

 

The door wasn’t locked — thank the Six — and Gladio threw it open with a flourish, gasping for breath and stunned at the sight that lay before him.

 

Ignis lazed in their claw-footed bathtub, situated in the middle of the large bathroom by a wide, sweeping window. Off to the side was a small table, a near-empty bottle of wine and an unopened can of Ebony positioned ever so carefully. As if that weren’t enough, Ignis wasn’t even nude — Gladio chuckled when he registered that Ignis was in the water still clothed. Yes, his pants were thrown off to the side somewhere so he at least got  _ that _ far, but his shirt was still on, buttoned only halfway. His socks were supported by sock garters up his long and lean legs stretched out of the tub, elegant and debonair regardless of the unkempt look he sported otherwise.

 

“Ignis . . . what on Eos? Are you . . .” Gladio tried to contain the laughter that threatened to bubble from his chest. Tried, and failed. “Really lettin’ your hair down tonight, aren’t you?”

 

He strode to the closet where several fluffy towels were, grabbing one. Approaching the tub, he took a seat on the edge, admiring the view. Ignis cracked an eye, smirking a tipsy smile. “Oh, Gladiolus; the judgment from you is palpable.”

 

“Nah, no judgment here; just a little surprised is all. I was worried when you didn’t say anything after I got home. Not used to coming home and finding you laid out like this.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like you’re still clothed in a tub full of water . . . and a little drunk?”

 

The water sloshed around as Ignis moved, the usual hardened expression he wore on his face removed. “I may have had a few glasses of wine. Nothing too out of the ordinary.” He didn’t say much else, choosing instead to flash a knowing smile. Gladio had to admit that Ignis looked beautiful like this, his hair wet and slicked over his forehead. A red blush tinged the apples of his cheeks, the effects of the wine no doubt. Gladio tried to rack his brain, failing to remember the last time Ignis indulged in some ‘me-time’. 

 

He deserved it, for sure. 

 

After the silence dragged on long enough, Ignis’ smile grew, fingers tapping a lazy motion on the lip of the bathtub. Gladio shook his head and laughed. “Maybe you could tell me why you’re still wearing  _ most _ of your clothes?”

 

“Ahhh . . . well . . . a funny story, if you will; the buttons of my shirt were stuck and my stays wouldn’t come off. Try as I might, getting my clothes to come off quickly proved to be an impossible task.” Ignis pursed his lips in quiet thought. “I fear my outfit is broken.” 

 

Control-freak Scientia probably fumed when he fumbled with his buttons, fingers lacking the dexterity that a sober mind would’ve easily provided. Gladio wished he could’ve seen that and the ensuing resignation that it  _ must’ve _ been his outfit’s fault and not that he was intoxicated. “Iggy, your outfit is fine. Nothing is broken. It’s called ‘drinking too much wine.’ We can unbutton everything as soon as you get out, ok?” 

 

Ignis scoffed, offended at the prospect that he’d imbibed in too much alcohol. After all, it was usually Ignis who took care of everyone else, choosing to forego nights of heavy drinking with the rest of them in order to keep a clear head of their little group. 

 

“Gladio?” he mumbled, running his hand through wet tendrils of hair. Ignis sighed and, for the first time since Gladio burst into the bathroom, he opened his eyes, locking his gaze on the Shield. It was such a sobering stare, one that shot a twinge of emotions through every synapse within Gladio’s being. The scars of Altissia Past stood out on Ignis’ face, a bittersweet reminder of what he’d been through and what he’d endured. Across his nose. Bisecting his eyebrow. Tucked in the corner of his lip. Gladio had kissed those scars more times than he could count and traced them over and over again with calloused fingers. 

 

“What’s up?” Gladio replied, a rumble of a voice while his heart thudded wildly in his chest. So loud, in fact, that he wondered if Ignis could hear it. 

 

A low hum. “You know how much I love you?”

 

Of course, Gladio knew. The entirety of their relationship flashed in his mind — a movie on fast-forward playing all their best moments. The first time they said those three sweet words. The first time they made love. The one time Gladio tried to cook dinner and nearly burned down Ignis’ apartment. When Ignis and Gladio shared their vows in front of all their friends, swearing their undying love from now until forever. 

 

Yes, Gladio knew. He always knew, but he’d never tire of hearing it again and again from Ignis’ lips. He’d sooner die than never hear Ignis voice his love for him ever again. “No,” he smiled, blatantly lying. “I’m gonna need you to remind me.”

 

The water rose and fell as Ignis moved to sit up a bit and then slouch back down, eyes unfocused. “You’re my best friend. The love of my life. Such a good man. My rock. My anchor in this world.” There was a twitch of a smile on his lips, but Ignis remained, more or less, stoic. He was very serious about his words and what he wanted to say. “I often wonder how I’ve been afforded the luxury of having you in my life. I . . . am lucky that you even looked my way all those years ago.”

 

Gladio blushed, tearing his eyes away. “Heh, I think  _ I’m _ the lucky one.”

 

Ignis admonished Gladio’s words with a brush of his hand through the air, shaking his head as if he didn’t want to hear it. “You flatter me, Gladiolus. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t thank the gods for sending you to me.” He closed his eyes and laid a wet hand on Gladio’s thigh, squeezing it once. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

 

Gladio knew Ignis’ mind was muddled by wine and the sweet notion of tranquility, but the fact that his love for him was still crystal clear made Gladio’s heart sing. It was more than he could ever ask for. Leaning forward, he planted a kiss on Ignis’ forehead, smiling as he did so. An assenting hum told Gladio that his love was also smiling — grinning from ear to ear. 

 

Ignis. 

 

_ His  _ Ignis. 

 

So strong. So stoic. He’d been through so much the last several years and came out on the other side prouder and stronger than ever. There had been moments where Gladio had his doubts — doubts that he quickly reneged on and immediately felt guilty over. If there was one thing Gladio’d learned about Ignis over the course of their friendship-turned-relationship, it was that Ignis could handle  _ anything _ thrown his way.

 

And Gladio was lucky enough to witness every step of that journey.

 

“Alright, drunky,” he chuckled, shifting because his leg had started to fall asleep from sitting on the edge of the tub for too long, “let me help you out and get you out of those wet clothes before you get emotional on us. See? I even have a towel for you.”

 

Ignis groaned at the prospect of having to leave the warm water — though, Gladio smirked, the water had now taken on a lukewarm, almost cold, temperature; a true testament to how long Ignis had been in the bathtub to begin with. Resigned to the fact that Gladio wasn’t asking Ignis to get out, he was  _ telling _ him, Ignis carefully got to his feet as Gladio reached down to let the water out. He wrapped the fluffy towel around Ignis’ upper body, up over the top of his head, ruffling his hair in the process. 

 

Somewhere in the towel, Ignis grumbled a terse, “Stop that, this instant!” and it made Gladio bark a loud laugh. When the towel was moved to cover Ignis around his arms, keeping him warm as a shiver shot through his body, Gladio gave him one more kiss on his forehead, overcome with a slew of emotions. 

 

“Love you, Iggy.”

 

Ignis swayed, eyes closed, but the corners of his lips turned up into a drunken smile. “Love you too, Gladio.”

 

And, with that, Gladio helped his love out of the tub, eternally grateful that Ignis had chosen him to stand by his side, forever and always.


	3. Remnants of Departed Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio reflects on Altissia while waiting for Ignis to wake up

The rain ended hours ago, but the storm in Gladio’s heart continued to rage on. It wouldn’t stop. A whirlwind of emotions. A tempest of anger and sadness and regret and worry. Sleep was impossible and scrounging up any sort of appetite was a feat in its own right. Everything was too much. It wasn’t enough.

  


It had been days, but it felt like years. A fucking lifetime. Altissia fell, a wasteland of flooded ruins and scorched rubble. Leviathan hadn’t been so forthcoming with her blessing, reluctantly granting it after her defeat. But, what did it matter? Luna was still dead. Noctis hardly moved from his slumber, enervated after the battle waged against the Tidemother. 

  


And Ignis . . . 

  


_ Oh, Ignis.  _

  


Running up onto the Altar was nothing more than fragmented memories at this point, a bad nightmare he wanted so badly to wake up from. Ravus walking away. Prompto screaming for Gladio’s attention. Noctis and Ignis soaking wet and sprawled out on the cobblestone. Gladio let his legs bring him to Ignis’ side, his survival instincts taking over as he felt for a pulse. He  _ needed _ to feel it — simply seeing Ignis gasping and straining for breath wasn’t enough.

  


The trek back to the Levelle hadn’t been easy. They had to go slow, careful to avoid damaged buildings and bridges. Gladio carried Ignis bridal-style and Prompto did his best to drag Noctis along with one arm draped over his shoulder. Under his breath, just quiet enough so Prompto wouldn’t hear, Gladio tried to talk to Ignis, urging him to  _ please _ stay awake.  _ Please _ don’t go to sleep.  _ Please. _  It was no use; Ignis finally slipped into unconsciousness not long after they left the Alter and hadn’t come to since. 

  


Despite how uncomfortable it was, Gladio refused to move from the chair he occupied at Ignis’ bedside. Prompto tried to tell him he needed his rest, offering several times to watch over Ignis, but Gladio shooed him away. 

  


“Coffee’ll be fine,” he’d mumble, hoping that answer would satisfy Prompto. No amount of food, no fluffy blanket, and no hot shower could pull Gladio from where he sat. Rationally, he knew Ignis’ condition was stable; irrationally, he’d convinced himself that the minute he took his eyes off of him, Ignis would stop breathing or succumb to his injuries. 

  


So, he sat. 

  


And waited. 

  


Every gasping inhale, every fever spike, every moan, and every quiet cry of agony sent Gladio into a mild state of hysteria, his heart rate soaring as he lunged forward to tend to Ignis. Each time he did, his eyes would drift to the silver wound that marred the left side of his face, like fire had been set to his skin, just below his eye. 

  


That fucking, Astrals-forsaken ring.

  


Gladio promised himself he wouldn’t cry. He didn’t want to fall under pressure. The others had always looked to him as a pillar of strength, the one to get them through  _ anything _ . But, if he were honest, he would’ve said that it was  _ Ignis _ who was  _ his _ rock.  _ His  _ support. Without him right now, Gladio had no one to tell him everything would be ok. There were no whispers of comfort and no promises that things would get better.

  


An angry burn wrapped around Ignis’ middle finger, a clear indicator of what he’d done. Gladio reached out, scooting closer as his fingers quested across the covers to find Ignis’ hand. He couldn’t help rubbing his thumb over the raised burn that came with wearing the ring. A permanent reminder of his carelessness. His recklessness. His ability to lash out and cling to the first flimsy plan he could come up with in that moment. 

  


Overcome with emotion, like a dam bursting from the pressure of the water it holds back, Gladio cracked. He clasped both hands around Ignis’, clinging to it for dear life as the tears he fought so hard to contain streamed down his face. Painful, uncontrollable, guttural sobbing racked his body and he couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. 

  


“Why the  _ fuck _ did you do something  _ so stupid _ ?” he grounded out through gritted teeth, his face nearly buried in the covers. “You didn’t  _ have _ to wear that  _ fucking ring _ . You didn’t  _ have _ to sacrifice  _ anything _ .”

  


Gladio wanted so badly to be pissed off at Ignis, but he had a sinking feeling it was only to cover up the anger he felt at himself. After all, wasn’t it Gladio’s job to keep everyone safe? Wasn’t it his job to ensure that things in Altissia went according to plan? How could he call himself a Shield after all of this? How could he let this happen? This was all his fault, wasn’t it? Oh gods, he was  _ right there _ . If Ignis had waited just a few more minutes, he could’ve been there to help. They could’ve all gotten out of this together. 

  


Should’ve. Would’ve. Could’ve. 

  


Gods help him if Prompto came in right now, tears and snot and blotchy red spots making a mess of Gladio’s face as he squeezed tighter to Ignis’ hand. Voice thick with anguish, he begged for Ignis to wake up. Pleaded for him to open his eyes. Anything.  _ Please, Ignis, do something! _

  


Then, as if the Astrals themselves heard Gladio’s prayers, the bed creaked under Ignis’ weight. He shifted and stirred, the movement stilling Gladio and ending his tears. 

  


One squeeze of the hand. And another. Fingers twitched and nails dug into skin as Ignis finally came to.

  


“Iggy? Are you . . .”

  


Ignis brought his elbow under him, straining maybe to sit up with his eyes still squeezed shut, but Gladio moved to ease him back down, speaking in soft, soothing whispers. “Hey, hey, hey, relax. You're safe. Just relax, ok? Fuck, I'm so glad you're ok, Iggy . . . You had us all worried sick.”

  


“Gladio?” Ignis croaked, bringing a hand to his head and slowly opening his eyes.

  


All the hope Gladio had in that split second, the exhilaration of having Ignis back in the land of living, was dashed the minute he saw Ignis’ eyes, revealing the truth.

  


Altissia had been particularly cruel to them. It left them battered, bruised, and dispirited. Gladio had hoped that they could weather this storm once everyone healed. He tried to hold on to that faith, reassuring himself over and over that this was ok. They were ok. It was fine. 

  


Gladio couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't be strong. The shock of seeing the white film over the familiar emerald-green eyes he'd grown to love was too much to bear. 

  


The gods had taken a lot, but they took everything from Gladio. 

  


They took his Father.

  


They took his King.

  


They took his home.

  


And they deemed it fit to take Ignis as well.

  


Defeated, Gladio crumbled under Ignis’ blank gaze, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders. He couldn't. He didn't have the strength to go on. 

  


_ Why? Why? Why? _

  


There was nothing, anymore. 

  


_ I'm sorry. _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make me happy. Talking to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/UnsteadyGenius) or [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/unsteadygenius) makes me happy, too! :)
> 
> Thank you! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of little scenes in my head about Ignis and Gladio, so I'm just going to throw them here for your (hopeful!) enjoyment. Rating and tags may/will change :) Some of these may be silly, some sad, but all Gladnis so yay!
> 
> Thank you everyone!


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